


Reingnited Spark

by RubyWaterz23



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Smaug, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Bilbo Baggins, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maybe Future Violence, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Plot will reveal itself as you read it, Protective Thorin, Romance, Sad Bilbo, Scars, Slow Burn, Thorin Is an Idiot, eventual smutt, past encounters, pinning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyWaterz23/pseuds/RubyWaterz23
Summary: A.U.  Thorin and Bilbo met long ago, but circumstances kept them apart, over 30 years later they meet once more but Thorin does not remember Bilbo at all. What will Bilbo do, when he thinks he has changed far to much to be of any interest to Thorin now. And with Thorin steps away from sitting in the throne of Erebor, there is so much at stake. Can they over come their own selves and see each other eye to eye, or will doubts keep them away from a love truer than all others?





	1. Beginning of an Alliance

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't get this out of my head so I began writing it. This wont be a super long one, maybe 10 chapters? I'm not sure yet, but each chapter might be a little long so we'll see how this goes.  
> 1\. Smaug never came, though there was a battle for Erebor some years prior to story present.  
> 2\. Bilbo is around the same age he was in Unexpected Journey - as is everyone else. But the whole world events are different.  
> 3\. Thrain is not dead, but Thror is. Thorin is soon to be king.  
> 4\. Most everyone from the movies will be present. Dis, Fili, and Kili will join later. As will Ori and Oin much later after that. 
> 
> Will focus on Bilbo and THorin but other characters are very important too.
> 
> {edited 2/22/20}

**~Chapter One~**

Thorin and his small company had been traveling for a total of six weeks and the stress of the journey, although it had been uneventful, were starting to weigh on everyone’s shoulders. Thorin leading the caravan of dwarrow rode on his newest pony fully clad in his travel armor looking just as regal as in his royal robes, though that had not been his plan. Dwalin rode behind him with his two favorite axes strapped to his chest, even though they had been assured weapons were not needed on the journey to the Shire. It would be a hard task to pry a dwarf from their weapon, it was as much a piece of them as an arm or leg. Balin and Dori were riding in the front of their large cart which carried all the things the entire company needed on the journey, and as the oldest members of the group they got the privilege of riding the cart seat instead of suffering the pony rides. Gloin and Nori rode tail-end and kept an eye out for any surprise attacks from behind. The Bi-Brothers held up the flanks and trotted along with two extra ponies that carried other supplies, except Bombur’s pony which was larger and stronger built than the rest.

“Why are we doing this again?” Dwalin’s complains for the umpteenth time cut through the companies tired silence, and Thorin sighed deep in agitation. Not that he didn’t share in his companion’s complaints, but he cared not to repeat this conversation again.

“Dwalin, I have told you and I will not tell you again. So, please, shut your trap.” Thorin strained the please holding back all the anger that was beginning to boil deep within him. Adjusting his position on the fuzzy pony he gripped the reigns tightly, his back was beginning to ache from riding as hard as they had been these last few days.

Behind they Balin and Dori began chuckling at Thorin’s new snappy remarks. He’d been ignoring Dwalin’s complaints for the better half of the day, but his patience was running thin. They should have been in Hobbiton two days ago but no matter how hard they rode the scenery never seemed to change, and Thorin hated to be late.

“We’re going because although the Shire is on the other side of the misty mountains they are a thriving people. The old Thain reached out and voiced interest in a treaty of sorts a couple years ago, and though we are doing fine we can not survive on trade alone. Thrandiul has shut himself inside Mirkwood and Dale can only pull in so much.” Balin was calling out from behind them, speaking loudly so his younger brother would hear them from the front of the company. “Plus the Thain has passed and a new leader head the largest holdings in the Shire. We are going to get this treaty signed and begin a trade and alliance.” Balin recounted the details they had discussed at length back in Erebor and spoke on often in the weeks past. Dwalin interrupted again with a whine in his tone.

“Aye. But why must this..this..” Grunting the semi bald dwarrow tried hard to remember the name spoke multiple times before, but which somehow had escaped his mind now.

“Bilbo Baggins.” Balin added.

“Yes, why this Hobbit? Balin said he was no older than a dwarrow bairn!” Dwalin looked to Thorin with his concerns while Balin rolled his eyes. Though this was true and some of the company had expressed the same concern earlier, it was far too late anyway to pull back.

“That’s enough, Dwalin.” Thorin kept his eyes forward as he spoke. “We are not here to meddle in or worry about Hobbit affairs. They do not live as long as we do-” Something Balin had told him months ago when the issue first came up. “-so he is not as young as we would see him. We are here strictly to finalize and discuss the alliance, nothing else.”

Balin chuckled to himself, knowing Thorin had just quoted him but not giving his future king away. Thorin had a good heart but he was stubborn and prideful to his core, it was not a good idea to get in an argument with him regardless of whether one was right or not. Dwalin sighed and the company pressed on with little conversation afterward.

Dori had a map, or that’s what it was supposed to be, but even though they had followed it exactly as the letter commanded they still found the hills and roads far too confusing. It didn’t help that Thorin’s sense of direction was never the best, but he refused to not be in front. He was to be king, he could not let other’s lead him – that was ridiculous. Dori had been trying to read the map correctly all day along with the letter of instructions in case they get lost. Thorin bade them to press onward and Balin begged that they approach someone and ask for directions.

The company rode on until nearly night fall when finally groups of small children were running along roads and angry, chubby, hobbits were glaring from behind fences. They were finally on the right road, and although Thorin refused to ask himself Dori took up the task and asked the first – nice looking – hobbit they came across. They were closer than they thought, but even at this pace they wouldn’t arrive until early morning and that was only if they didn’t stop.

But with the whole company complaining and with Bombur’s stomach growling louder than a thunderstorm, they were forced to stop for a quick rest in some of the rolling hills and cook a meal. Before dawn they were back up and heading quicker to their destination than before. Thorin was quite accustomed to the life on the road, and although a soft bed in the hills was not the Erebor life he missed it was still better than a simple bedroll. He was anxious to get this journey to an end.

All the while through the night – and if he let himself be honest all through these last couple months – Thorin had felt this nagging irritation clawing its way through his brain. There was something that wasn’t sitting right with him, something he felt like he was forgetting. Ever since this whole ordeal came into being and he took up the mantle of coming all the way out here to settle everything, something in the pit of his stomach. Baggins. He knew that name, it hit him when they were discussing the preparations for the journey and Balin was chatting with the whole council. Bilbo Baggins, the new Thain of Hobbiton, someone who had apparently inherited the position much like Thorin would inherit the throne. But no matter how hard he thought on it he couldn’t recall ever meeting a hobbit named Baggins.

Which for some reason pissed him off even more. But he kept it to himself less prying fingers bugger him to death. This was something he would figure out for himself as soon as they arrived.

 

* * *

 

“How are you doing today, Master Baggins?” Hamfast, a rounded hobbit with chestnut hair, asked kindly as he stepped through the front door. Wiping his hands on the cloth he kept in his trouser pants he smiled at his oldest friend and master. There was still mud on his feet so he approached no further then the entry rug, knowing full well how Bilbo liked everything to be clean – even if it didn’t always look so to everyone else.

Bilbo looked up from his desk, at which he had been currently busy rereading documents and going over every bit of information he had – just to be safe. As he turned towards the voice of the only hobbit he truly trusted he groaned at the ache in his neck and lower back. He’d been hunched over the papers straining to read the words it had become so hard to read in the last couple of years, even with the aid of his small monocle. A silver framed monocle to which he let slide into his vest pocket, with the chain it dangled from already attached to one of the vest buttons.

“Slow going, my friend, but with these extra days things are catching up.” His voice softened by the ache of his head, an affliction that had been ailing him more frequently in the last couple of days, too much stress. Rolling his wrist he looked to his gardener. “Are the party settings going as planned?”

Hamfast shifted his feet and rubbed the back of his head. “Well, as close as they can be with the dwarrows being three days late.” Even Bilbo was starting to worry a bit at this point. The letter he had received by raven – the form of delivery that the dwarrow employed throughout their entire correspondence – nearly a week prior had said the company was entering the Shire as would arrive by the next sun rise. The crown prince and his ‘most trusted’ - or as the letters had worded – were now three mornings late and Bilbo was beginning to wonder if he should worry about darker events plaguing their travels.

“The decorations still holding for now?” Bilbo asked with hope, as he himself had planned most of the welcoming party that was meant to great the company on arrival. Bilbo had learned to plan as well as he could from his mother and he took great pride in the way things came together. However, with the delay of their honored guests things were becoming hard to keep together. Hamfast and his small crew had dealt with the floral and brush, crafting together wonderful displays of color with wafting scents carried on the wind. It had been worked on for weeks prior to the date set, which was now past and everyone was doing their best to keep everything in peek condition.

“For now, the flowers have bloomed wonderfully and the fireworks are now here.” Hamfast said with a smile, knowing Bilbo would be happy to hear that specific news.

“Gandalf arrived?” Bilbo, done stretching out his body and all the stiffness, grabbed his cane and approached his friend with only a slight limp – a small smile on his face, which was the first almost real one Hamfast had seen in months.

“Yes, early this morning. He was in fact late, but it seems to have worked in our favor.” Hamfast chuckled. “There are those who are not too happy. They had hoped he would stay gone.” Hamfast spoke light heartily, as he was fond of Gandalf just as Bilbo was. Bilbo’s smile deepened slightly.

“Yes. That was to be expected, shall we go check on everything?” Bilbo offered, in need of checking on preparations but also as an excuse to see his dear friend; Hamfast stepped aside and let Bilbo exit first. Walking down to the festive area Hamfast carried the conversation but Bilbo gave short responses, which wasn’t odd for the both of them.

Just down the hill the arch way banner came into view which read – in perfectly painted letters - ‘Welcome Thorin and Company’. It was nicely done and even though it needed a touch up the day before Bilbo felt pride, the banner hung off two wooden posts which were covered in pink-flowered-vines. It was a lovely sight. The freshly cut grass still felt wonderful on the soles of his feet as they walked beneath the entrance. A stage was set to the far right, a small platform really, with a numerous amount of rounded tables and chairs before it. Decorated with white linen cloths, there were enough tables and chairs to seat nearly all of Hobbiton; at the back of the group of tables winged off four long tables decorated with flower displays. These were meant to seat the company as a high respect. To the right of the tables was a long bar and a massive pyramid of barrels full of ale and wine – only the finest made – while all the food had been taken back to the many pantries laying in wait. Bilbo had ordered it to be moved back after the first day when it was clear the dwarrow company were not going to show, and he was waiting until they saw sign of the group before bringing it back out. No sense in letting good food go to waste.

After doing a quick sweep of everything and making small chat with the few hobbits still working at the set up of everything Bilbo looked to find Gandalf, he was eager to see his old friend. However, much to his dismay, Bilbo only found his tent full of fireworks, but no wizard. Sighing he limped out of the tent guessing the old fool must have wondered off somewhere else and would certainly return.

“Hamfast,” Bilbo called out to his favorite hobbit, who was chatting it up with a rather disgruntled looking elder-hobbit. Hamfast turned with a smile. “Come, sit with me a moment.” Bilbo didn't bother to wait for Hamfast to finish his chat – or more like argument with the glaring pile of wrinkles – as his limping would take him a good minute before he made it to the table. And just as he had predicted, once me made it to the table, there was Hamfast finally free.

“Oh, bless the trees! Everyone's got some sort of opinion on our expected guests! Why in all this green world they're telling me I'll never know!” Hamfast commented with exasperation, but Bilbo could see the happiness sparkle in his brown eyes.

“Well, you are my right hand.” Bilbo retorted with a small smile, Hamfast chuckled and glanced back to the party of hobbits that were slowly gathering around.

“So, it would seem the delay of our guests have greatly irritated – to say the least – everyone who has donated for this celebration. They're beginning to wonder if this could be insult.” Hamfast paused and looked back to Bilbo. “I just keep telling them to maintain and have patience.” Bilbo nodded. He knew it wouldn't help much in the long hours of waiting as impatience built up, but it was all they could say without riling up the crowds. It was a good choice to go with and Bilbo was grateful for Hamfast.

Comfortable silence fell between them as Bilbo absentmindedly began to rub his right knee, for even after all the years of healing he'd done it still bothered him on days such as these. He hadn't even noticed he'd begun to massage where the phantom pains and tender aches under the scar tissue until Hamfast gave him a very concerned look.

“Is it bothering you very much?” His brown eyes cast downward with worry for a quick second and Bilbo lifted his hand off his knee.

“Not so very much.” Speaking honestly was the only way to answer Hamfast, as his friend wouldn't take anything but the truth. “I just need to sit a moment.” Bilbo distracted himself by looking around at the few still working on the stands and caring for the flower beds. He could not deny that it was good seeing everyone working together and building something so beautiful; it may have been hard for him to be anything but filled with void, but he felt the warmth of content-ness knowing they could craft something so wonderful.

It was certainly difficult being the Thain, but he was able to feel pride in all the work he had poured into these last few months. However, just then his quite break ended.

“The dwarves approach!” Someone from atop their tallest eastern hill shouted down to everyone below. Bilbo’s heart picked up a quick beat at the surprise of the moment but he breathed out a slow breath to clam his nerves before standing just as Hamfast had.

“Are you ready?” Hamfast asked in a small voice only for Bilbo to hear, concern marring his face deeply as he stared hard at Bilbo. His question holding far deeper meaning then his words let on. Bilbo nodded and patted his friend's shoulder. A while ago, such concern would have offended Bilbo, but he appreciated the pure intentions his worry came with.

 

“Lets go.”

 

* * *

 

“Finally!” Dwalin shouted as their destination came into view, a group of hobbits spotted them and ran off in the direction they were headed. “Well I guess that’s all the welcome we'll get.” The balding dwarf snidely commented while he huffed a harsh breath, obviously he was loosing all patience and control.

“Dwalin, enough.” Thorin, who honestly was at his limit as well, sighed; Dwalin's irritation and small comments were not helping anyone.

Keeping his eyes forward did not help to distract his mind from the fact that the hills their ponies rode on through were somehow even greener than the last. Thickly bobbing between each other, the only distinctive factor that these were in fact homes were the colored doors and painted fences. Flowers and plants of all colors bloomed everywhere and Thorin began to wonder how anyone could live somewhere like this when so many scents invaded the nose. His head hurt enough as is, but now it would throb harder.

“We seem to have caused something of an upset.” Balin voice came loud over the group and Thorin looked to where his adviser was pointing. A few older hobbits were standing at their gates glaring daggers into the company, their chubby, wrinkled faces squished together very unattractively. Thorin would have remarked had this been any other occasion, but simply glared back and moved on. He was far too tired and irritated to deal with any nonsense – knowing full well if he engaged he’d speak words he would live to regret forever. This alliance he had come to make wasn’t something he would let fail because of one snide comment said in anger, so it was better he – and all his company – keep their mouths shut.

It had been a long couple of months since the correspondence began between Erebor and Hobbiton – the largest hobbit collection in the Shire – and Thorin was actually quite eager to meet this 'young' hobbit who was Thain. Which, even though Balin had corrected him many times, Thorin could not help but compare to a role of king. The hobbit's way of life was not so regal – Balin would explain – speaking of how the Thain was more a chieftain than a king, but either way Thorin wanted to speak to someone whose mind was not as conservative as his father's was. He truly believed that he, and all of Erebor would benefit greatly from this.

It was agreed upon that Thorin, and his few most trusted, would journey to Hobbiton where he and his adviser would counsel with the Thain concerning per-determined conditions and make any changes necessary. As there were a few things that can not be discussed over raven-letters, and they needed to see exactly how the hobbits themselves lived. Thorin wanted to be able to just believe the words of someone else, but he had grown to learn you can not trust or rely on others. His sister had often told him he was too much of a skeptic and cynic, but he promised he would try to keep his mind open in this one situation.

His father thought him foolish for wanting to begin this venture, but something within Thorin's gut burned – telling him this was the right move. Even though his father, King under the mountain, believed seeking outside help – even simply through trade – was a massive show of weakness. “ _A king must find the means to do it himself or not at all. A real king stands alone!_ ” Thorin did not agree in the least, he believed a true king stood with his people and no matter his pride he must provide for them what they need. Plus, there simply wasn't much choice left, Erebor had never been the same after the battle for the lonely mountain, and although they were rebuilding themselves well enough, it just wasn't the same. Thrain had done well to help their people, or so it had been before he started changing. His father was being effected by something and Thorin didn't know what, it was part of the reason he was so eager to get this alliance finished so he could look to help his father before all his sanity was lost. This was definitely the right move. His father had laughed at him all the while as he left Erebor, but Thorin took no insult and only became more determined to help his people and his father.

Following the winding, narrow road, Thorin lead the group until they managed to arrive at a low clearing. The whole area had been made and decorated with floral and wood-work, and perhaps on a good day Thorin might have been able to appreciate the wonder of it all. However, he was already near explosive with anger, so upon seeing such a sight he verbally groaned. Dwalin shared in his sentiment, while Balin silently chided his younger brother.

Hobbits were gathering in mobs and began to approach with faces filled with false smiles. Kind words of greeting were shared as they directed the ponies to the far left side – where a bit of the clearing had been left empty for the group of their ponies. Thorin let the hobbits do what they must while he dismounted and stepped forward, his eyes following quickly the shorter figures darting back and forth in what seemed to be last minute preparation. It surprised him, mainly because he was sure they were a few days late so how in the world could these smallish beings be unprepared. It was not a good starting impression to say the least.

Thorin's unsure beginning only worsened as the rest of his company began to step forward and were then met by a honey colored-haired hobbit.

“Welcome.” The honey haired male stepped forward and motioned to everything around them. “We have prepared an extravagant welcome for you and your company.” His voice even been sounding void of any real welcome.

Thorin, however, was not sure what to focus on. There was so much to look at and so much he was sure he shouldn't glance at too long. The hobbit before him was scarred in the face, scars which had healed – by his standards – well enough but still showed. His left eye was glossy white with pale burn scars around most of the eye and trailing up to his hair line, the left ear also effected by such scaring – something he only noticed as the hobbit turned his head and saw it was not the same as the right side. The second thing he noticed was the hobbit leaned heavily on a dark wood cane favoring his right leg with each shift of his body, though this did not distract his eyes from noticing the – simply put – handsomeness of the creature before him. Soft pale, sun-touched skin, with a hazel colored eye, his nose was round at the tip and his cheeks – though not as round as the hobbit standing at his side – looked soft and smooth. There was something familiar about his features and the harder he looked at him the less he saw the scars and the more he noticed the odd expression on his face. Almost void of any emotion.

Upon first eye contact Thorin thought he saw a hint of surprise, but staring into his eyes now he could see nothing. Absolutely no emotion, even though a small smile painted his lips, he could not tell what this hobbit was feeling.

“Thorin.” Balin spoke in a sharp whisper at his side and Thorin blinked looking to his right, Balin was giving him a stern look. “He asked you a question.” Balin whispered obviously wondering if Thorin had heard him, and of course he had not. Thorin simply looked back to the odd hobbit and raised an eyebrow, still no hint of real emotion just an ever present smile.

“Would you like to sit and rest?” The hobbit repeated his question. The crowd behind the two hobbits standing in front began to move closer.

“You have any hard ale?” Dwalin spoke from behind before Thorin had a chance to say anything. The second hobbit to the right of the odd one, spoke up.

“Yes, indeed!” His cheeks grew rounder with a true smile, as he motioned behind the crowd of eager listeners to a pyramid of barrels. “Ales and whines, plenty for all of you. And there is much more.” The hobbit seemed proud that they had prepared for this. Thorin would have been impressed had he not been so vexed by the now silent male staring directly at him.

“Then, please, lead on, laddie.” Balin spoke up after a small moment of silence, again from Thorin.

The rest of the company was now behind them and the two hobbits turned and lead them to long wooden tables to which had been brought just for them – or so the rounder hobbit had said. As they seated themselves Thorin noticed more things were being brought out from homes and put on stands as fires stared and barrels were being set up to pour. Thorin seated himself in the center of the left table – out of the two – and crossed his arms out of habit as he watched everything unfold around him.

“Quite a lively bunch of people.” Dori commented as he sat beside Balin, two to his left.

“Aye, but they seem nice enough.” Balin added.

“The ale better be good.” Dwalin mumbled as he detached his axes from his back and set them beside his stool.

“So long as the food's not rabbit stew, I don't care!” Bofur exclaimed loud enough for half of those around them to hear as he sat at the end of the other table with his two brothers. Bombur glared at him, as it had been a jab at his cooking, but Thorin – who was only half listening – knew they had bonds strong enough not to break over such simple quips.

Nori said nothing as his eyes watched closely at everything around them and Gloin complained of awkward sitting as they settled themselves in their respective seats. The odd hobbit limped – though Thorin could tell he was trying not to – in front of both tables and spoke with a voice loud enough to be heard but one which wasn't shouting.

“We will start of with feasts and drink, but after it is your choice of festivities or of situating into your temporary homes.” His hand balanced his own weight on his cane as the other fiddled with something in his vest pocket. Thorin didn't realize he was glaring until Balin nudged him with his elbow.

“I'll let my company decide.” Thorin quickly spoke up this time, he didn't want to seem incompetent of speech at this point, nor did he want someone else speaking up for him.

“Well than, enjoy.” The odd hobbit nodded his head as he turned and stepped away, the void in which his bare, limping feet left was quickly filled with tray-holding hobbits. Food was brought to them in mass, so much so it filled the table within moments and Thorin was fully impressed. He hadn't expected such a feast as this one. Meat stacked high, all forms and types; fruits and breads in baskets; tarts and deserts on trays and stands; while mugs large enough for their hands were filled to the brim with honey ale.

It didn't take long for the rest of the company to dig into the food, mouths full and chattering about how good it all tasted. Of course Thorin was just as hungry, but he picked at most of what was in front of him. He couldn't shake the feeling of strangeness about them, like something was missing or there was something not quite right. He wasn't sure if it was in his own head or if hobbits were just naturally odd creatures.

“Thorin, what ails you, laddie?” Balin, at his side asks as he puts down his now empty mug, foam still on his beard. Thorin side glances at him and sighs as he puts down the chunk of bread he was nibbling at.

“I'm not sure.” He spoke honestly. Balin was more than just his adviser, he was something of a brother – as was Dwalin – and he trusted no two more than he did them. And although he hadn't told them every truth of his life he didn't hide things either when they were as obvious as his uncertainty in that moment. “Something doesn't feel right.” Thorin kept his voice low as he whispered to Balin who kept calm but Thorin saw the flicker in his eyes, knowing now the old dwarf was going on high alert.

“You sense malignant intent?” Balin asks barely above a whisper.

“No.” Thorin quickly whispers back. “It feels like they're hiding something.” Thorin glanced around at all the commotion about them as other hobbits began to sit at round tables and dig into mountains of food much like the ones in front of them.

“The scarred one was odd for sure.” Dwalin commented in a not so low whisper with a mouth full of chicken leg, Thorin almost rolled his eyes. Not that he didn't agree but Dwalin was getting on his last nerve. “I didn't think hobbits actually knew how to fight.” His comments were not quiet in the least.

“What do you mean?” Thorin asked, almost loosing his temper as he glared side long at Dwalin, an unknown rage building in him.

“Well how else dose one get scars like that?” Dwalin huffed as though it was obvious.

“Ah, well.” Balin interjected. “Though I have heard of battles in this area, or so _Ori_ has told me.” Balin put a thick emphasis on the young dwarrow's name to stab at Dwalin, who flinched at the mention. “But I don't believe there has been one for some time.”

“What of Ori?” Dori, who was extremely protective of his youngest brother, asked now that their conversation could be heard by the table. Dwalin groaned out loud.

“Just talking of how Ori _loooooves_ to come to my room at night.” Dwalin spoke, an obvious lie as the two hadn't fully bonded their connection yet, but it would anger Dori nonetheless.

“What was that?!” Dori took the bait like a hungry fish, standing up in anger.

“Dwalin!” Thorin smacked the back of his friend's balding head. Dwalin was being beyond ridiculous, and they all knew it was because he was too far from his One, but they hoped he'd level out soon.

“Oh Mahal.” Balin groaned out, and the few of the company that could hear what was happening were laughing now. “Dori, we all know Ori and Dwalin haven't bonded fully, so sit down. He's just trying to make you angry.”

Dori cleared his throat then reluctantly sat back in his seat. Dwalin chuckled victoriously and mumbled to himself, Thorin groaned inwardly. If this was any show as to how the next couple of weeks would go then it would most certainly be unpleasant.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bilbo knew, with one far away glance he knew right away, exactly what he had feared in his heart of hearts. It was Thorin. _The_ Thorin, _his_ Thorin, from long ago. He had hoped, at the beginning of the correspondence, that the name – the named signed off on most of the letters – was just a popular one with dwarrow and that this would-be-king was not the one he met so many years ago. However, as soon as the crown-prince rode over the top of the hill Bilbo's heart flew out of his throat. _He_ looked exactly the same. Long raven locks, flowed like rivers down his shoulders, strong frame held with such strength. Bilbo almost let himself run ahead to meet with him after all this time, but his fear kept him planted in the soft grass.

He stayed there frozen, heart pounding in his chest, as the company of dwarrow was lead right in front of him. He feared for a moment he wouldn't be able to talk, his heart waiting for something but unsure of what. However he found and heard himself talking and moving without control, as if his body were on some auto-pilot. He could hardly hear himself talk through the beating of his heart sounding in his ears, but he knew he was doing it. The only thing he was aware of, and that was in his own control, was that his eyes – his good eye – never left Thorin's.

The speeding world around him didn't start to slow and come to a halt until he sat himself at one of the round tables in front of the stage. It was one of the farthest from the dwarrow's tables, and Bilbo took a slight comfort in that – feeling as though now he could breath. He didn't realize Hamfast was at his side until his voice broke through the fog in Bilbo's ears.

“Bilbo?” …. “Bilbo!!”

Bilbo blinked hard and then turned to Hamfast whose face was twisted in concern, making him believe Hamfast would never look like anything else. Sighing he calmed his heart as he felt his breathing go back to normal.

“I'm sorry, Hamfast..” Bilbo tried to sound normal but even he could hear the waver in his voice. Hamfast was silent at his side, but he knew the hobbit was just waiting for Bilbo to speak. “Its _him.”_ Bilbo said in the softest hush he could manage.

“Who?” Hamfast spoke in just as soft a voice.

“The leader,” Bilbo locked eyes with Hamfast trying to hold back the build up of water in his eyes as his hands gripped tightly on his knees, everything he was holding back was starting to crash into him. “Its _Thorin.”_ Bilbo saw the recognition on Hamfast's face turn to understanding and then to sadness.

“It's been a long journey,” his friend whispered, somehow just knowing what Bilbo was thinking. “Just let them settle in before you assume he doesn't remember you.” His voice was still hushed, but there was a kindness in his tone that made Bilbo's nose twitch. Even if Hamfast's words held truth Bilbo's heart sunk deeper.

“I am not the same hobbit..” He whispered even lower, his shoulders hunching, wishing he could go back to that summer thirty-five years ago.

 

xxXxx

 

_Bilbo loved to run through the free hills, tall grass against his feet with arms outstretched to catch the sun. It was the greatest feeling his freedom could grant him. He was no longer a fauntling and his parents aloud him to roam around freely so long as he didn't go too far, which he never did. While his imagination would take him to all the corners of Middle Earth his feet never brought him out of the Shire. He'd wonder through fields of corn pretending to be stuck in a labyrinth forgotten in time, he'd run through the trees pretending to chase down elves, he'd play at the river bank fooling himself that one day he'd swim in bigger bodies of water. He'd go anywhere he wanted and at the end of the day he'd come home and share all his adventures with his mother and father. He could not imagine life being any better._

_But things can change faster than the setting sun._

_Bilbo was wondering a little farther than he had before, but the field of flowers was so large and he so wanted to find the perfectly formed petals for his parents to give them. He already had a small bouquet in his hands when he stopped suddenly. Surprise froze his feet where they stopped, for just over the next hill stood someone he'd never seen before. Something that_ did not _happen in the Shire. He was tall, well not as tall as that wizard who'd bring fireworks but still taller than any hobbit, with all his dark long hair blowing behind him as he looked towards the hills beyond. Bilbo was memorized, he'd never seen someone so..so.. oh, he didn't know the word, but all he knew is he couldn't stop staring at him. Not even when finally the man – or what ever this stranger was – turned and looked right at him too._

_They stood there for a few moments, on opposite hills, staring at the other. But then the stranger began walking towards him and for a quick second Bilbo panicked. His heart raced and he wasn't sure if he should stand there or run away. He'd never encountered someone he didn't know on one of his 'adventures' and his father had told him to be wary of others, but the feeling welling up in his chest didn't feel like fear. And his gut wasn't telling him to run, so he stayed where he was standing until the stranger was only a few feet before him. Even with the tilt of the hill his eye level was higher than Bilbo's, but not by much with uneven ground._

“ _Hello, I am sorry, but it seems I am lost.” His blue eyes were clearer than the sky above them, and as he spoke he smiled slightly crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made Bilbo's tongue feel swollen. Was this stranger magic? Bilbo wasn't prepared to say anything and he was still trying to recover from this odd – consuming sensation that the first thing that came out of his mouth wasn't what he wanted to say._

“ _Are you going to eat me?” Bilbo ended up shouting it a little bit as he stared into those intense blue eyes. There was a moment of silence as the strangers eyes widened a bit before he burst into laughter. His smile was wide and showed perfectly white teeth, while he almost doubled over in laughter – the sound like a perfect melody to Bilbo's ears. His heart leapt in his chest again._

“ _No, no I am not.” Said the dark haired stranger as he straightened he ruffled the curls on Bilbo's head and Bilbo couldn't help but smile back._

“ _Good.” He managed to say something normal. “Where are you from?” He asked after a moment of licking his drying lips and bringing himself out of wild imaginations._

“ _I was traveling from the Blue mountains with a company, and we're supposed to be close to the Shire now..” The stranger trailed off his thought as he looked behind him, but looked back to Bilbo with a small smile. “But I guess since you're here it means were in the right direction.”_

_Bilbo took a moment to look up and down the stranger, he dressed like no hobbit or wizard, though to be honest that's all Bilbo knew – aside from stories in books. His tunic was thick with chain mail over top – or what Bilbo thought could only be chain mail as he'd never seen it before. With a furred-sleeveless coat over top and a belt secured around his waist with a sheathed sword. Bilbo's eyes lit up upon seeing the weapon. He'd always wanted to see a real sword, but he kept his mind on track._

“ _Well the Blue Mountains are that way.” Bilbo pointed far west, which was directly behind them. “But this isn't the Shire.” He pointed to their left. “Its a little south that way. I've gone a little further than I should.” Bilbo smiled proudly like he'd accomplished some great distance. The stranger smiled again. “But it all depends on where you're going, really.” Bilbo put his hands on his waist, something his mother did a lot, and something he was starting to make a habit of._

“ _Ah, well then I guess I'll be going that way.” the stranger said pointing directly behind Bilbo, mimicking the way he had just done. “My people have a long way to go and we must travel in daylight.” The stranger's smile started to fade as he took a step back words, and Bilbo's heart sunk to his feet._

“ _Wait!” Bilbo took a step forward before thinking about it. “You're leaving already?” Unaware of the desperation in his eyes. The stranger's smile which flashed at him was fuller than the others before._

“ _Well, I must get back to my company.” But this time he didn't move. Bilbo still felt a strange loneliness in his heart._

“ _But I don't even know your name!” Bilbo bit his lip, suddenly feeling nervous, knowing he was acting like a child, something he'd just got done telling himself he was no longer. The stranger's smile stayed as he stepped closer until they were within reach of each other and held out his hand._

“ _My name is Thorin.” Bilbo stared a minute at the large, rough hand outstretched before him, seeing the callouses covering his palms. Nervousness made him wonder what he was doing, but he wasted not a second more before he put his hand in Thorin's – his much smaller than Thorin's._

_A strange – but comfortable – silence fell over them for a long moment as the wind picked up and blew a few petals from their flowers. Their hands gently holding onto each others, Thorin's warm and surprisingly gentle hold._

“ _Bilbo. My name's Bilbo.”_

 

_xxXxx_

 

 

“...I doubt he even remembers my name.” Bilbo spoke pulling himself out of a memory he could only dream about now, one that no matter how much he wished to return to that time there was no going back.

“Who doesn't remember you?” A loud friendly voice spoke from above his head and both he and Hamfast looked up with sharp snaps of their necks. Standing before them was none other than Gandalf.

Gandalf wore the same old gray cloak and hat he always wore, with his friendly smile shining down on Bilbo. Gandalf always seemed to brighten the world when he came visiting. Bilbo stood trying not to wince at the pain in his leg, which would probably swell that night after a long day of walking.

“Gandalf!” Bilbo smiled back, his first true smile, though it was still small, and hugged the tall wizard. After they broke Hamfast did the same greeting him with a large smile as well. “You're late.” Bilbo grinned jokingly. The old fool was always late.

“I was not.” Gandalf exclaimed. “I arrived earlier, and now I'm back.” He rested his hands on the staff he always carried.

“Well it's about time.” Hamfast nudged Bilbo. “We were starting to think you'd be later than the dwarves!” his belly giggled with the chuckle he released. Gandalf joined in with a chuckle of his own.

“Ah well, I do not think they do well with directions.” Gandalf teased their honored guest even though the dwarrow could not hear their conversation. Gandalf looked up to glance at those on which they spoke to find none other than Thorin Oakenshield glaring blades into his very soul. Gandalf raised an eyebrow and wondered what on middle-earth he could have against him now.

They'd met only once before, many years ago at the battle for Erebor, but not since then. He didn't seem much changed with his piercing glare still as strong if not even more filled with anger. Thorin truly had a chip on his shoulder.

“I see you've taken to feasting already.” Gandalf tried to take a seat but realized the small chair was far too small for him and just took to sitting on the grass, even though it was slightly wet. “Mind if I?” he asked, polite as ever and Bilbo nodded as he sat back down. Gandalf did not miss the special care he was taking with his knee, but said nothing knowing the hobbit would deny any pain he felt and just smile.

Gandalf had watched Bilbo go through so much and he hated seeing his dear friend in pain, but he knew Bilbo to be stronger than others would expect a hobbit to be.

“Enjoy all you want.” Hamfast said as he continued to dig into the plated he put before himself. Bilbo wanted to eat but found his stomach unsettled by everything he touched. He was far too nervous and unready to deal with the situation before him.

“So what kept you?” Bilbo asked, desperate for a distraction, looking to Gandalf.

“Oh this and that.” Gandalf said biting into a biscuit. Bilbo sighed.

“Always with the secrets.” Bilbo smiled small and tried to pick at some salad, but even plain greens made his stomach do flips.

The next almost hour was filled with idle chatter and as hobbits began to finish their meals some began grabbing instruments of music and started dancing. Drunk hobbits loved to celebrate. Bilbo was a little nervous as to what their dwarrow guests would think but he couldn't make himself turn around and look. Afraid he would see than menacing glare staring right at his back. It hurt to see Thorin stare so angry at him.

After a bit of celebrating Bilbo knew it was time to talk to his guests, he was Thain and he could not avoid interaction forever. Standing he looked to Gandalf he was puffing on his pipe that he carried with him everywhere, Bilbo had wanted his when the wizard had pulled the long pipe out but regrettably he'd left his in Bag End. Gandalf stood and followed Bilbo back over to the dwarrow tables.

A few of the company had already left their seats to join in the fun, a fact that eased Bilbo's tension a little, but the crossed-armed glaring Thorin had remained seated. The two older dwarrow sat at his side still and the balding one stood not too far from the table. Thorin was no longer glaring at Bilbo, but now had his eyes fixed on Gandalf. To which Bilbo was grateful and kept his eyes anywhere he could to avoid locking with those beautiful clear blue orbs he dreamt of all these years.

“Were things to your liking?” Bilbo asked hoping his voice sounded normal as he kept his eyes on the white bearded dwarrow. The older dwarrow seemed to be surprised to be spoken to directly but smiled kindly and nodded.

“Aye, it was certainly filling!” He smiled toward Thorin but Bilbo kept his eyes on the older dwarrow. “I was certainly surprised that such a feast was prepared, but I hope we have not run your stock low.” he looked back to Bilbo as it was obvious Thorin was not going to speak, try as Bilbo might he could still see him in his peripherals.

“Ah well..” Bilbo began but he was unsure how to inform them on their stock of food, seeing as that was one of the topics on the alliance, he wasn't entirely sure that he should get into it now. “We've got plenty..” Bilbo trailed off not knowing what else to say on the subject.

There was awkward silence for a long moment and Bilbo focused solely on keeping his eyes off of Thorin.

“Ah, how rude!” the older dwarrow stood up. “We've yet to introduce ourselves!” He held out his hand. “ I am Balin, adviser to Thorin.” as Bilbo reached and grabbed the dwarrow's left hand with his right he was reminded of a similar warmth he left long ago. “My younger brother Dwalin.” He continued as he let go of Bilbo's hand and pointed to the balding dwarrow standing behind Thorin now.

“ _Nice_ to meet you.” arms crossed he raised an eye brow at Bilbo as their eyes met and though he saw irritation and possibly hate it was no where near as menacing as Thorin's was.

“Dori.” Balin continued pointing to the dwarrow with so man braids winding about his head Bilbo wondered if they had meaning.

“Hello.” Dori smiled friendly.

“Bifur, Bofur and Bombur over there.” Balin pointed to the three dancing dwarrow seeming to make a fool of themselves but Bilbo hoped they were having fun. “Are brothers, if that wasn't obvious.” Then the white haired dwarrow looked about for the last two. “Gloin,” he said pointing a little from the crowed to where the fire-haired dwarrow stood talking to the hobbit caring for the ale barrels. “He's a bit hard headed but friendly enough, and Nori over there.” Lastly pointing to a dwarrow with the oddest head of hair Bilbo had ever seen, seeming to be in the shape of a star. “Watch him though, he's got sticky fingers.” Balin chuckled at his own comment but Bilbo was unsure of what he meant.

“It is wonderful to see you again, Thorin.” Gandalf spoke up at Bilbo's side, though he made no attempt to shake hands or preform any sort of greeting.

“Wonderful is not how I would put it.” Thorin spoke his eyes still trained on Gandalf, and Bilbo forgot himself for a moment and looked at Thorin, entranced by his voice. Something he regretted as soon as he did.

The world slowed as blue eyes turned to lock with his, Bilbo's heart leapt back into his throat and he could feel the lump so thick he could not swallow. He tried to keep his face calm as he stared into eyes clearer than the sky on the brightest day, but it only made him feel smaller than he ever had. Bilbo saw only questions and anger in those eyes now, eyes he used to see the world in. It almost made his lip quiver.

_Not only does he not remember you, he **hates** you._

Bilbo's thoughts screamed into the void of his heart and he tried to ignore the impending doom but he began to fear that his fears were right.

“Pleasant as always.” Gandalf spoke as if not a beat was missed, when Bilbo felt like minutes had passed in those few moments.

“Quite the party.” Dwalin said now looking to Bilbo as were the others, he pulled his eyes – good eye – from Thorin's and looked at the balding dwarrow.

“Do you enjoy festivals?” Bilbo asked hoping he seemed sincere but could hear the faraway sound of his own voice. All he wanted to do was go back to Bag End and curl up in his bed.

“Aye we do, ladie.” Balin answered for him. “But if I may.” Bilbo tried to pull himself from his thoughts and look at the older dwarrow. “We are rather worn and would care for a soft bed to sleep in for the night?” Balin left it as a question, seeming as though they knew not sure whether preparations had been made. Bilbo nodded.

“Yes. A smial has been prepared for all of you.” Bilbo said, turning on the weight of his cane and finding himself walking up to the road, without even waiting for his guests, though he was sure they'd have no trouble catching up with him as the pain in his knee was making his limp exaggerated and hard to keep any sort of quick pace.

“What's a smial?” He heard one of them ask behind him, apparently he was even slower than he thought. He wasn't even at the top of the first hill and most of them were walking behind him. Dori was the one who had asked.

“A hobbit-hole.” Bilbo answered softly, not trusting his own self to talk much more lest he say something horrible. When he felt this raw, as his emotions tended to make him feel, he became a little 'snippy' as some had commented before. “Everything had been prepared with many rooms for each of you to sleep comfortably.”

The rest of the walk was silent, at least on his end as the dwarrow continued chatting – although Bilbo did not hear Thorin's voice in the mix – as he lead the way to the empty smial not far from his own home. It was a little bigger than Bag End, as last month it had been renovated to fit nine dwarrows, but it was still going to be somewhat of a tight fit. Bilbo hoped they would not mind too much.

“Here were are.” Bilbo stopped in front of the gated fence, a brown circle door the portal to their temporary home for the next two months, or perhaps longer. “Some of your things will have already been brought up, but I'm sure they're working on the rest now.” Bilbo stayed at the fence while Balin headed the group into the smial. Five rooms in total with two beds each, except for the master bedroom which was made specifically for Thorin. Bilbo had wished he'd have known it was going to be _this_ Thorin and he might have put a few more personal things inside, but he stopped his train of thought right there. “I'm sure you know how to situate yourselves.” He spoke aloud to any of them that were still standing outside the fence as one by one they went into the hobbit-hole.

“Yes, we do.”

Bilbo gulped, keeping his eyes on the ground, as Thorin's voice sounded low and quite near to him. He could see his booted feet not far from his own. Bilbo only nodded quickly.

“Yes, well, I have things to attend to..”He didn't bother finishing as he leaned heavily on his cane and made his way as quickly as he could to Bag End. Knowing it was bad manners to just leave them like that but he couldn't be in Thorin's presence for another minute, it was getting to be too much for the first day.

With his green door shut behind him Bilbo let his cane fall to the ground as he slumped low and let out a low whimper, his eyes filling with tears.

_Why?_

He asked into the void of his mind.

_Why did it have to be him?_

 

 

**~chapter end~**

 

 


	2. Fist Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin's company hold the first meeting of many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Whooo~ >.> such long pauses in between XD My bad. But I do have a lot planned for this soooooo… hopefully you enjoy this chapter ^.^ 
> 
> Soak up all this angst!!

**~Chapter Two~**

  
_What in Mahal was happening?_

Thorin was beyond angry, angry wasn't the word for it, more like infuriated, peeved, irate, incensed. What was worse was he didn't understand why he was so infuriated by what had just occurred. 

First there was the oddness of everything around them, Thorin still felt like these hobbits were hiding something from them. Maybe not something sinister, but still something wasn't being said. Second this Bilbo Baggins was a complete mystery. Thorin could normally read people within the first five minutes of meeting them, but this strange creature would not be easily opened. At first he was aloof – completely void of emotion – Thorin couldn't read his cold features, but he was sure in that first glance he saw something. _Then_ he did a total 180, which threw Thorin for a loop. 

Bilbo had chosen a seat far away from his, which Thorin was slightly glad for, but then he recognized the wizard who approach the small table to which the hobbit sat. At first he was irritated that the fool was here, for what ever reason, but then became filled with an unknown rage upon witnessing the odd hobbit hug the wizard. Even more so after he saw this previously apathetic creature now smile with a tenderness that Thorin began to loath. 

After the meal, when their 'host' finally deigned to approach, he couldn't make eye contact and Thorin could clearly see he was uncomfortable, and when finally they made eye contact Thorin felt his throat go dry. He'd never seen so much raw emotion in one glance, but the look was over so quickly he didn't have time to figure out what was going on. 

Suspicion lead his feet to follow as his company gathered and followed after the hobbit. Thorin's eyes glared, watching the small creature limp harshly on his right leg, it pissed him off that watching this made him feel concern. Why in all this green earth would he feel concern for this weak creature? Thorin admired loyalty, strength, and courage; a wounded strange creature who didn't seem like he deserve the position he had, was not someone worth his time. 

Unsure of what he had expected, a private smial all to themselves was not quite what Thorin thought it would be, but it would be satisfactory for them to be in private quarters to 'live' as they please - though he imagined it would be hard to do so in such small quarters. It wasn't something he had the opportunity to think on as he approached the gate, to which Bilbo was still standing by looking at the ground with interest. 

Thorin hadn't realized he'd replied to a question – hadn't even realized one had been asked – with a grain of salt in his tone until the rough words were spoken. A simple enough response but even he could hear the malice in his own voice. The hobbit was gone before he could think on whether or not he wanted to apologize. 

“Odd.” Gloin, one of the last to enter through the gate – aside from Thorin – spoke his own thoughts. 

“I'm sure there are reasons.” Thorin heard himself unconsciously defend someone he was inwardly beginning to hate. What in the fires of Mordor was coming over him? He needed something else to focus on. Pushing – respectively – past the members of his company he walked into the hobbit-hole. “Which ones are taken?” He asked allowed as he winded down the right side of the circled hall, the left being a train of open rooms so he naturally figured the right would be rooms. He was correct. 

Balin stood at the end of the circled hall holding open a door. “It would appear this one is meant for you.” Thorin was grateful but confused as to what made his adviser so sure. Approaching the door he understood. 

One four-post bed lay in the center of the room, is length against the wall, with beautifully carved wooden table and a desk on the left wall while the right wall displayed a circle window Thorin guessed opened to look on the hills. A wardrobe in the corner painted with detailed flowers Thorin knew not the names of, and a vanity wash table beside it. It was certainly smaller than his quarters in Erebor but it was larger than he expected from small creatures, and the sheets seems far to decorative to be meant for any one other than the soon-to-be-king. 

“There are four other bedrooms, two beds each, all the same.” Balin pointed to the doors on each side of the hall, two on his right and two on his left. All close together, so it meant that the kitchen and any other rooms there might be would indeed be on the other side of the smial. 

“Alright, well. Lets get settled what we can, as well as any of our things that they bring. We'll get down to business in the morning.” Thorin spoke loud enough to be heard, but not yelling, before he stepped into the room that would be his and closed the door behind him. Suddenly feeling beyond exhausted Thorin stripped off his coat, armor, and boots, leaving himself in just his tunic shirt and thick woven pants. Sitting on the bed he ran his hands through his hair and breathed a sigh. 

True he had just finished the last leg of a long journey, but his exhaustion felt more than that and now all he wanted to do was lay still and sleep until the next spring. Though he knew come morning he'd have more things to see too than he would know how to conquer, per usual in his royal position. However, for that night he knew he would be left alone to rest, so he laid down over the covers – hands behind his head – and closed his eyes. 

* * *

  
_~Knock Knock~_

Bilbo was sitting staring down at his cup of tea, which had been fresh thirty minutes ago but was more than likely cold now. He hadn't the energy to drink it, and honestly he didn't remember even making it or how he got out of bed. He had not slept well at all that night, the sun set shortly after he secluded himself inside his home and although he lay in bed he could not find sleep. And then, when it finally got a hold of him, he could only dream of horrible things. Memories and imagined horrors he would rather forget. 

He looked up, slow as molasses, to the door from his chair – the chair that was his father's – tea cup still in hand. Bilbo didn't bother asking who it was, instead he simply told them to come in. The green door swung open and Hamfast stepped in, with Gandalf behind him. 

“I figured you'd still be like this.” Hamfast spoke with a slight sadness in his voice. The two approached Bilbo as he stayed seated in his chair, in his robe with his feet propped up. 

“I do not understand what has brought you this low.” Gandalf speaks as he crouches beside his small friend. Gandalf had been there when Bilbo's parents had died, when he had been wounded, and when he had lost almost everything he had in this world; however, Gandalf did not know about the one summer he met the one he knew he would love for ever. Hamfast, in truth, was the only one close to him that knew anything about Thorin. Bilbo had kept him a sacred secret, all to himself, for many years. It wasn't as though he didn't want to tell Gandalf, but he'd only just never gotten the chance to explain everything to the old wizard and since did not feel it was the right time. 

Hamfast patted Bilbo's shoulder. “Pushed yourself too hard yesterday.” Hamfast made it sound like a question but Bilbo knew his friend was protecting his secret, and it almost brought a smile to his face. With Hamfast at his side he may have enough courage to see this day through, and then the next. 

“Shall I look at your knee?” Gandalf asked with the same amount of worry as he had before. He was a decent enough healer, but the old wound wasn't something Gandalf could fix so Bilbo shook his head. 

“I'll be fine.” He began but his voice was dry and hurt his throat when he spoke. Holding up his cup of tea he tried to smirk “Fresh cup?” 

The better half of the next hour was spent getting Bilbo in as good a shape as he could manage. Fresh, clean clothes, a nice white shirt with a mahogany colored vest and forest green trousers. His monocle in his vest pocket and his cane at his side he stood a little straighter feeling a little stronger. Hamfast had fixed him a small breakfast and he'd enjoyed every bite. 

And though it was close to luncheon Bilbo knew he'd have no time to prepare anything special for his guest, instead he asked Hamfast to send someone to bring what ever pieces of last night's feast they could for the dwarrow's pantry. It had already been somewhat filled but Bilbo wasn't sure if they'd cook anything for themselves. Gandalf walked behind the two as they made their way to the front door of the new dwarrow's home. 

* * *

  
Early that morning Thorin had woken with a start, shooting straight up in bed he panted at first not knowing what had scared him so. On instinct he looked down at his hands and tried to catch his breath, images started flooding into his brain from the dream which had woken him. 

Not all of it was clear but he could remember dreaming of someone, someone with honey brown curls, of touching their hands – holding them in his own, tender touches which lit his skin on fire. Fire, he could remember the feeling of them burning, but when he'd looked down he realized they hadn't been in pain. No, it wasn't real fire, more of a warmth soaking through his body at the touch of this blackened figure. However when he'd looked up to see the figure the face was nothing more than a blurry blob even though he stood only inches away. Why could he not see them? 

So many things happened after that and Thorin – no matter how hard he tried – couldn't recall exactly what had happened. Only remember watching soft honey curls getting further and further away from him as he cried out and reached for the person to stay, only to have his feet stuck where they were. 

His heart clenched and he felt a pain he hadn't known he could, what was this? Taking long deep breaths he stilled his mind and heart as he shook the strange dream from his mind. Once calmed he got  up, might as well if he's going to be awake now anyway. Washing his face with the fresh water in the vanity he breathed a heavy sigh, he still believed that this would bring about good for his people but he wasn't sure if it was going to be as easy as he thought. 

When he left his room he found that Balin, Gloin, and Nori were already awake. Thorin had found the three of them in what seemed to be a pantry of food staring at different walls as though they'd never seen food before. Thorin, still stressed over the dream he'd had, stood at the wall adjacent from the arch of the pantry with a raised eye brow.  

“And what are you doing?” His voice was still low with the sleep of the night affecting him, he cleared his throat for good measure. 

Gloin whipped his head around looking guilty, Nori took a defensive stance as he crossed his arms, and Balin just groaned. 

“Well nothing seems to make any sense in these selves. Cheese with mold, boxes we cant seem to open, jars of I don't know what.” Balin continued showing Thorin some of the dilemma they'd encountered. 

“And no meat to be found anywhere.” Nori continued kicking the bottom of one of the shelves at it rattled the jars together. 

“I'm beginning to think we ate their entire supply.” Gloin added though his comment was quieter than the other two. 

Thorin groaned and stepped in, and for the next ten minutes the four of them scrounged together what they thought would be well enough for breakfast. It was nearly put together when finally the others joined them in what they assumed was meant to be the dining hall – er well room, Thorin guessed – though the table didn't seem like it would fit nine dwarrow well at all. But to his surprise it did as one by one they sat, Thorin at the head and began eating. 

Thorin tried to listen to his company, but due to the fact that he did not eat much of the feast from the night before he took this time to fill his stomach as much as he could. He did catch a bit of argument between Bombur and Bofur, as the bigger dwarrow offered to whip something up from what he could find while his brother shot that horse down quickly. A few joined in with quips about having the same meal for every meal of the day, and how they would die if they were to eat it again. Bombur groaned and mocked the company under his breath. 

Thorin slightly smirked to himself, though no one saw it, he was more comfortable with his company and knowing they were settling in nice enough made him feel more at peace. They finished what they had set and left it as it was, knowing Bombur would stay and clean up. A simple way of letting him get familiar with the home. Thorin took it upon himself, with Balin at his side, to take a walk through the hobbit-hole and examine everything. The decorations were pretty impersonal, but all the furniture seemed new enough and were quiet comfortable, their number had been accounted for as well as it could be. 

In the sitting area there were plenty of seats, two full length couches that could easily seat three of them – well aside from Bombur – and a few side chairs about the hearth. A small shelf in the corner housed books, but Thorin didn't feel the need to go see what lay there. He continued on to the next room which was nearly as large as the dining area they'd come from, but this room was obviously meant for other things. The chairs were nicer made, and maps littered the walls. Small side tabled with drawers sat against the walls, Thorin assumed they'd be taking council here then. The arch way there lead to the pantry and to the kitchen both, which was large enough for Bombur to move about comfortably who seemed to already be making himself at home. Beyond that was a smaller room made of mostly stone flooring and wooden vertical planks, in the center was a large bath already filled with herbal water. 

Thorin had not seen a bath like that for some time, but was grateful, though he assumed this meant they would be taking baths together or as many of them as could fit in this room. The water was not steaming so he guessed a fire somewhere else would have to be stoked in order to warm up the water. 

After his short tour through the home, and a few quick words with Balin, Thorin decided to send out a member of the company to fetch anything the ponies were still carrying and anything else left behind. Which was done swiftly by Gloin, and the rest of the morning was spent getting comfortable. 

Bombur stored what little stock they had from the journey in the pantry and set up his own pots where he liked. Balin set all his documents in the 'council' room as the dwarrow began to call it,with scrolls and maps of his own. Dwalin and Bifur took to placing the weapons near the entrance of the hobbit-hole with smithing tools they had, though the entry area was smaller than the rooms it would do well enough for now. Until Thorin would talk of perhaps using the hobbit's smithy for their own. 

Part of the agreement in the letters was the dwarrow company would assist in the defense of the Shire, though now that Thorin was here he couldn't image war being a problem in these flowered hills. Nori and Bofur worked on getting all their personal items in the right room, though they hadn't brought much they'd packed sacks of clothes on their caravan, along with some whittling tools, a set of pipes and tobacco, plus a small chest of books brought by Dori. 

The smial was busy from after breakfast till the large standing clock in the sitting room stoked noon. It was then Dori, who had been sitting out on the bench in the front lawn with Gloin, called out that the Thain – Bilbo – was approaching. Thorin, who was with Balin in the 'council' room setting out documents, he wanted to get started on proper negotiations as soon as he could so going over things with Balin was important.  He stopped reading over some of the conditions and looked up to Bofur in the adjourning room who had relaid the message to him. 

“Well then, so it begins.” Thorin mumbled to himself. He's succeeded in distracting himself all morning but he knew it would be hard not to be one edge with this strange hobbit in his presence. He was stepping to the front of the smial when he hear Dori welcoming their host. 

“Good morning.” Gandalf's voice sounded as he passed through the round door and saw Bilbo standing just beyond the open gate with the round hobbit to his left and the fool of a wizard to his right. The same placid smile painted on Bilbo's face, just as it had at the beginning of the day, yesterday, though he would not look directly at Thorin. 

“We've brought luncheon!” the rounded hobbit smiled wide as a small crew came bringing large baskets from down the road. “Have you eaten?” His face was kind and Thorin couldn't help but think him a simpleton. Obviously these creatures knew nothing of hardships as such he'd been through, but that was exactly the reason this alliance was worthy – the hobbits had much to give. 

“You got any meat in those baskets?” Gloin asks with an eagerness in his stance as he tries to look beyond the three of them to the crew carrying food. 

“Yes, yes.” the rounded hobbit nods chuckling, Gandalf joins but Thorin sees no change in Bilbo's face as he looks to everyone but he. And though he can't understand why it makes him filled with more anger than he's sure he can conceal. 

“Well then, lets get in!” Dwalin, who had stepped out of the door before Thorin spoke as eagerly as Gloin. The dwarrows all looked to Thorin who was blocking the door, but Thorin stayed where he stood and tested his rage. Staring directly at Bilbo he looked on him hard, but kept from glaring so as to not threaten the leader and ruin the alliance. But he needed to test if the hobbit would not look at him when directly addressed. 

“And is breakfast all you have come to offer?” He knew he was being reckless, risking insult, but he could not stand being passed over – if that's what was happening now. But Bilbo's Hazel eye and murky white orb looked up and stared straight into Thorin, still placid and unreadable. 

“No, it is not.” His voice held no hints for Thorin but was soft on his ears. “But it is better we speak inside.” Bilbo's smile was as fake a smile as Thorin ever saw, but it was clear to him the hobbit was not stepping down from the unspoken challenge. So Thorin conceded and lead the way back down the left half circle to the dining hall and council room, he would let the hobbit crew by and wait while his company ate. His appetite suddenly gone from his body.  Leaning against the table he waited with arms crossed. 

The whole dwarrow company enter the smial first, then Bilbo and the other two followed by the crew with the food. The baskets were placed on the large dinning table with dishes of meat, bread, pies, and steamed vegetables. His company wasted no time to dig in as they sat down and ate with their hands not bothering to get forks ready with their plates, though the plates were hardly used either. 

Gandalf approached the council table and sat at the side while Bilbo stood a few feet from Thorin in the open hall connecting the rooms together as the other hobbit stood much closer to Gandalf's side. 

“I'm surprised.” The round hobbit began, speaking more to Gandalf then to Thorin. “It would seem they eat almost as much as hobbits.” He spoke with a clear chuckle in his voice, and though Thorin wanted to speak on not insulting his people he found he couldn't tear his eyes from Bilbo. Honestly he hadn't even realized he'd been staring in the first place, but once again the hobbit would not glance his way. 

“Rivaled only by number of meals.” Gandalf added with a laugh, taking much joy in the joining of merry groups. 

“What do you mean?” Thorin found himself asking but still his eyes glanced sidelong at Bilbo who ignored him too look at the hungry dwarrow's feasting. 

“Ah well, hobbits are known for many things!” the round one behind him began, and Thorin honestly couldn't remember his name. “For many things, one of them being our appetite. Seven meals a day you see.” He smiled proudly at Thorin's back, but even though he could not see this he could feel it. Thorin turns to look at the round hobbit, finding this fact intriguing and desperate to keep himself from staring any longer at Bilbo. 

“Seven?” His voice still as smooth and solid as ever, hiding any trace of true interest, wanting to appear polite but not genuinely curious – though he sort of was. 

“Breakfast, Second Breakfast, Elevenses, Luncheon, Afternoon Tea, Dinner, and Supper.” The round hobbit counted off on his fingers. “And all full meals too!” He seemed proud and Thorin wondered how such small creatures could fit so much food inside them. But with this knowledge he couldn't help but glance back to Bilbo, trying to confirm something he had thought he'd noticed. Bilbo seemed thinner than the other hobbits, though not by much, however standing near the round one made the difference obvious. Perhaps stress made the small Thain eat less. 

 _Why is that any concern of yours?_ Thorin's inner self yelled at him, _Why be concerned with someone who means nothing to you? Who is just an ally in waiting, someone to use as you can and thank as you leave back for home?_ Thorin knew in his heart he should listen to his inner logic but something twisted in his stomach. Why couldn't he let this feeling go. 

 

 _'Why must he keep staring at me?'_ Bilbo asked painfully to the emptiness in his mind. It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, keep from looking to the dwarf, especially when he could feel the daggers of those blue orbs stabbing straight into his side. Could he do this? Could he play aloof and pretend his heart wasn't breaking inside his chest? All through the night he'd thought on everything; how the memories of that summer had brought him through the darkness of the worst winter any hobbit had ever seen. How when the correspondence first started he'd convinced himself it could not have been the Thorin he knew, for surely the one he loved would remember his name as well, or so he had to hope in order to stay sane. But with the events of the day proving all his hope had been nothing but him grasping at strings he could never touch, it was a crushing weight on his chest. He'd hardly slept a wink.

The realization of the truth that the only person who'd ever make his heart beat wildly never cared enough to remember him was too painful to think about anymore, it was terrible enough to be so near him. So close he could remember what it was like to spend days in the sun nearly shoulder touching shoulder...

  
_xxXxx_

_For days after that first encounter, Bilbo had run to that same hill each day at noon and waited for hours hoping to see the one he couldn't shake, not even in his dreams. And after three days he'd began loosing hope but just beyond the horizon he saw the shape of him approach. Never had Bilbo felt so much joy. They met with a locked arm greeting and began talking as if they had been friends all Bilbo's life._

_Sitting together on grassy hills talking of everything they knew of, Bilbo's topics short and his knowledge simple but he was glad when Thorin listened with such integrity. But what he liked most was listening to the dwarrow speak, tell tales of his years past. So many journeys he'd been one, so many battles he had seen, and though he spared Bilbo the horrible details and spoke only of the glories Bilbo was inspired nonetheless._

_Hours they would talk, share, and grow closer. Weeks went by like this, and Bilbo found himself fondly waiting every day on that hill to see Thorin walking to him. It had not taking him longer than the first afternoon to realize what was happening to his young hobbit heart. And although hobbits don't always find their true loves, he knew right away Thorin was the other half of his soul. He didn't speak on the pounding of his heart but he didn't hide his intentions either, though he was certain his flower gifts were not understood for what they were._

_Bilbo was sure Thorin saw him as a young child, which he was no longer even just barely, but he didn't mind so much. Thorin still patted his head often and let Bilbo sit close to his side, and he was fine with this or so he told himself. He knew he would get older and he vowed to court the dwarrow until he accepted at such a time when it was appropriate. He'd heard his mother and father speak often of their undying love for each other and how it felt when first they met, and Bilbo swore he felt that now._

_One afternoon he sat together with Thorin in the grass with a basket of lunch that he'd brought and together they sat, Bilbo's shoulder barely pressed against Throin's arm. Neither talking, just simply enjoying good food and good company. Bilbo's heart fluttering under his shirt._

_xxXxx_

   
Bilbo's memories were so clear, so vivid it hurt, his heart felt clenched tight as if it might burst. But he'd repressed his hopes once, letting himself cling to only memories, so he knew he could close himself off once again. And shut himself off he did, as he finally moved from his standing position to move to the other end of the table as far away from Thorin as he could get. 

His body had begun to move on its own as Thorin called for his few council members to join them at the table. The white bearded one called Balin, Dori with his complicated braids, and Dwalin with his balding head all came to sit at the table the dwarrow sitting close to Thorin leaving Gandalf and Hamfast close to Bilbo. Easing himself into the wooden chairs Hobbiton had provided with a bit more ease this day than the previous he sat quietly waiting for the rest to join as the council meeting began.

“I hope you all found it easy to rest last night?” Bilbo asked, beginning the long train of many discussions they were sure to have with pleasantries first, looking towards the older dwarves for answers. 

“Yes, very pleasant this home.” Balin answered, a politician's smile on his face, though Bilbo felt like this dwarf was sincere in his words. 

“ Bit tight if you ask me.” Dwalin muttered, but Bilbo heard it easily though he chose to pretend like he didn't as he kept his eyes – good eye – on Balin. 

“We are not putting anyone out of a home, are we?” Balin asked seemingly attempting to stir the conversation away from Dwalin's snide remarks. Bilbo appreciated the older dwarf's mild conversation, not wanting to have to deal with critiques or complaints though he knew that was part of the job he'd been given as Thain. 

“Not at all, this smial has been empty for a while. It was renovated not too long ago to accommodate everyone.” Hamfast spoke up before Bilbo could, his tone gentle but excited, as he took pride in his people and where they'd brought themselves since that winter so long ago. Bilbo was glad for his show of enthusiasm as he was sure he would not be able to fake that, his stoney expression was as much control as he could provide in that moment. “Bilbo was the one who over saw all the plans, making sure there would be plenty of space.” Hamfast smiled cheerily as he looked back to Bilbo, a small smile painted his lips but he was merely playing the part. In truth it wasn't really such a big part he played in looking over the blue prints, the old smial belonged to an extended member of family and had never been occupied after that winter. So when they choose it for the dwarves Bilbo looked over the plans a few times and gave some pointers, to keep the style in tact and to be responsible for any mistakes. It wasn't as though he did any of the work himself. 

“So you're why we're sleeping two to a room.” Dwalin's comment, not mumbled through a mouth full of dried meat that he had apparently brought with him from the dinning table, looked to Bilbo, not really with any true anger more irritation. Still, it caught Bilbo off guard for a moment, were half of his allied guest angry with him? It seemed like they either smiled politely or glared daggers. Why couldn't there be a middle ground. 

“Only so much can be done to a smial without ruining the integrity of the hobbit hole itself, I am sorry for any inconvenience.” Bilbo answered as civilly as expected, surprising himself at how good he was at playing this part. On the outside he was fine, his hands did not tremble and his skin wasn't wet with sweat; however, underneath the shell he had donned on his whole body shook like a leaf. He could feel Thorin's eyes on him and the tension in the whole room, do to the obviousness of the dwarven crown prince. Bilbo was trying his best to ignore it, the coldness that washed over him every time he felt Thorin's gaze land on him, not letting himself wonder why he kept staring so long. Bilbo as they were right now was nothing more than a hobbit Thain who was to help his people, not the young hobbit who was star struck by a dwarven warrior decades prior. It was painfully obvious that Thorin didn't remember him, otherwise Bilbo would think those gazes wouldn't be glares, and yet they were and he had no clue as to why. 

“The rooms are fine.” Thorin's voice sounded over them all, though everyone was relatively silent any way, his eyes moving down to the papers covering the table. Moving to pick up one of the old letters, he lifted the paper and scanned over the words. “Just to clarify a few things I'd like to go over the previous agreements.” Thorin began, almost immediately jumping into his political role – with all his dwarven-princely grace, right to business. Though he didn't miss the glance Balin gave him as he continued speaking. 

“Base lines are; we provide the means and learning to protect the shire as a whole, you provide an ongoing open trade of goods, and our kingdoms are allied for the foreseeable future.” Thorin glance up from the paper to look to Bilbo's face, meeting his half white-murky gaze and feeling this wave of...he didn't know what wash over him. It was the not knowing, not understanding, what it was he was feeling that filled him with the increasingly 'normal' rage in his blood. It pissed him off that even as he could feel this confused tornado of emotion spinning through him, this hobbit Thain was as blank as a untouched piece of paper. The murky eye seeming even more void-like that the day before, which seemed like a achievement as the eye was already void of all color.

“As agreed, yes.” The hobbit's answer was a blank as his eye. “All materials we can supply ourselves we'd like to learn to use as your people have,” His hazel eye stayed locked onto Thorin's and though he could hear the words and hear his own in response it felt as though his body was trapped in time with the hobbit's. Both across from the other and nothing else in the world. His fist balled as he tore his eyes away from the hobbit looking back to the letter, something was definitely up with himself and he hated not knowing what this feeling was. 

“If you don't mind me asking,” Thorin heard Dori's voice and his eyes darted to the other dwarf. “It does not explain in the letters as why this desire to learn smithing and weaponry is so vital it needs to be learned as quickly as you have requested.” His curious eyes pointed at both Bilbo and the round hobbit. It was a valid question, Thorin thought to himself, he'd wondered the very same thing. 

“Uh well..” The round hobbit seemed to hesitate as his small eyes glanced to the odd hobbit who seemed to think for a moment staring back at Dori than down at this own hands. “Its a long story..” The round hobbit finished looking back to Dori when Bilbo didn't answer, only staring at his hands.

Tension filled the air, as thick as a fog one could cut with a blade. It was an odd thing to avoid, the question was pretty straight forward and it could be given a simple answer. So the heavy feeling in Thorin's gut only grew and he glanced at Balin who looked at him at the same time, the both of them wondering if his suspicions were correct. 

“You should know, better than anyone, son of Thror.” Gandalf's voice spoke, loudly but not booming. “That those who mean to only cause destruction lurk around every corner with each passing year. Threats grow larger and more difficult to deal with, it is a smart move to prepare one's people and land.” His demeanor was as composed as always and spoken with a small smile, as if there could not be a concern in the world and as though the suspicions of every dwarf at the table weren't growing. 

“And why,” Dwallin spoke up again. “are you even speaking at this table?” Dwalin, with his arms crossed glared heavily at the wizard. All those in Thorin's company knew and or shared his dislike for the wizard and his games, so none of them were very pleased that Gandalf had joined but they accepted it so long as he remained quiet. 

“Gandalf,” Bilbo finally spoke up again, his eyes – hazel eye – looked to Dwalin, strong eye contact made while some kind of emotion swirled in the green-ish brown pools. A small detail Thorin noticed that made his fist clench tighter, a tightening in his gut as some dark feeling in his heart began to well up. “Is a dear friend and trusted ally. He gives me great council and I value his insight. He remains at my side during all these meetings.” Bilbo said plainly, as if to try and challenge dwarven stubbornness. Dwalin seemed to want to argue back, but with a hushed sharp word from Thorin he shut his mouth tighter than a blockade and grumbled to himself.  Though he couldn't say he was pleased at all with the way the odd hobbit came immediately to the wizard's defense. 

_Why dose that piss me off?_

* * *

  
   
And so on the council meeting went, in this dynamic; a question was asked, tension would build, a simple or vague answer was given, and sometimes small comments were mumbled. Bilbo stayed as level as he could with the dark pain inside him, feeling as though it was creeping over every inch of him, threatening to drag him down into a hole so dark he'd never see the light again. The out bursts lessened as the meeting went on and nearly every point of negotiations thus far was discussed in length, turning the council meeting into a rather productive one. He did his very best to not look to Thorin, though the longer he was in the dwarf's presence the harder it was and the longer he found himself locking gazes with the other. Each gaze like a knife in his heart, how ever was he meant to survive this? 

The questions seemed to go on for forever, and he felt himself sinking into the chair, praying to the heavens that he could be granted the luxury of going home and letting himself fall into despair. That is not to say that despair was already at his door for the last decade or so, as he consistently tried to survive day to day and keep getting up each morning. Though the role as Thain that he played kept him busy most days even if it was merely from the comfort of his father's chair, and when it became apparent that an alliance was needed for his people he found a purpose to wake up and work. Instead of loafing about like he preferred to do. 

The letters had given him some reprieve, pretending he was writing to his Thorin, though at that point he was convinced it couldn't be real. A painful realization that he'd kept each letter stored away in a box to keep them safe, for purposes as Thain but also his own child-like hope that he could pretend and for a moment he would be fine. That hope had been crushed into dust, now blowing away in the wind. All those memories he'd kept close to his heart meant nothing, were nothing to Thorin. All those days he'd spent waiting and hoping and all that excitement he'd felt every afternoon he spent talking to the dwarven warrior he so admired. All of it, meant absolutely nothing to the dwarven prince sitting across from him. For surely, if they meant anything at all to the dwarf, even just as a passing thought, than he would have been remembered. Bilbo could excuse if maybe the Thorin he knew had forgotten his family name after all those years, and even could forgive not being recognized as he knew better than anyone else that he was much changed. But with that combination of things and still, Thorin stared at him like he was nothing but a nuisance at the table. 

Bilbo couldn't think about it anymore, knowing he was forgotten was hard enough, but being hated for what ever reason the dwarf prince had now made it all so much worse. Perhaps he had imagined it all, all those years ago meeting a handsome dwarf warrior who indulged his every question and smiled at him so kindly. His young heart so susceptible to fall, so easily taken by someone he hardly knew, a fault of his own as he was just barely out of his fauntling years. So swept up by a overly handsome face, and a few kind words, how foolish. Thats what it was, folly. Bilbo was nothing but a young lad who had let himself believe what he wanted and made an utter fool of himself. Pledge himself to someone who couldn't be bothered to even remember his name, how stupid. 

So Bilbo would put all his emotions into the ground, bury them until he could no longer shed tears. This imaginary connection was not important, what was important was making sure the shire could be protected so what happened ten years ago could never happen again. Somehow he managed to keep himself hollow through the whole thing, staying focused on his duty as Thain. 

When finally negotiations were done, at least for the day, Bilbo stood slowly. Feeling as though all the strength had drained from him and he needed to rest. Hamfast as his side helped him pull the chair away from his back so he could get a proper hold on his cane, avoided all the eyes he could feel on him Bilbo made his way out of the dwarven smial, limping like an old hobbit twice his age. Hamfast was quiet at his side as he limped on the soft dirt path, grateful for the fact that his own home was not too far away though he was sure he would come to regret that discussion greatly. Bilbo was barely aware of Hamfast telling him to get some rest and that everything else would be taken care of, as he nodded and then closed his hobbit hole door. Locking himself inside bag end he took deep slow breaths, trying to feel anything but the cold dark that was taking over his body. 


	3. Truth Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter than the others

**~Truth Revealed~**

  
Bilbo found he was able to fall asleep for the afternoon, a cat nap which lasted most of the afternoon as he did not wake until evening. Meaning he had missed two meals that day, not that that was a particular odd thing for him as of late, but it would still be noticed by the ever concerned Hamfast. Though he did appreciate his dearest friend's concern. 

With the stress of the arrival, the three days they were left waiting on their toes and the ever present strain and dread of seeing Thorin more than he would even like to now that the dwarves were here, Bilbo was far from tired. One might say. So when he managed to drag himself to his four post bed he simply crawled in beneath the blankets and hide his head under the pillow, hoping desperately he wouldn't have any dreams. But that was not to be the case. 

_xxXxx_

_Summer days were his favorite. Not only because he was now over 20, meaning his parents no longer worried for him when he wanted to go out exploring in the woods. Well in truth his mother was never worried, for she loved to encourage him to be a wild thing as she once was in her youth, but she did always warn him to be careful. He was no longer a fauntling, and he earned the right to be treated as an adult hobbit, meaning he made his own choices and could go where he liked. When he had no other responsibilities of course, which meant summers were his freest times of the year. As there was less do to for a young hobbit who had yet to find his calling._

_This love of summer of course only grew with each meeting of his dwarven warrior, as Bilbo had begun to call Thorin in his own mind. Though they had only met a total of four times now, each rather brief and not all consecutive. Not long enough to call the warrior dwarf a friend, and not long enough to know the older male well enough to tell any one else. And sadly – to Bilbo – not long enough to offer up any flowers, though he certainly debated picking a few wild ones on his way to the open grassy hills that day._

_He'd begun going to their first meeting spot ever day, always after luncheon, giving him time to spend with the dwarf before dinner as he started to bring afternoon tea with him. Although there wasn't any actual tea, it was more a small cloth with an apple, some cheese, and good bread. A good enough substitute for the fifth meal of the day, as his mind was always too busy thinking about his company for the afternoon to think of food._

_Bilbo came to find himself running eagerly to the same spot each time he came, even if Thorin never showed up and he had to go back home for dinner. He was never angry or upset. Thorin had told him their second meeting that his people, the dwarves of the blue mountains were moving in groups from the west mountains and heading east. Their goal, the lonely mountain which stood beyond the east mountain range, and soon they would all be returned to their true home – the throne of Erebor. Bilbo greatly admired the way he stood proud of who he was and the people he fondly talked of. It was like reading one of his great stories, hearing about the dwarves and their travels so far to return to the lone mountain. It sounded absolutely wonderful, and Bilbo couldn't stop himself from wishing he could see it at least once. Thorin had smiled at him._

_So those days that Thorin didn't met him Bilbo knew he was busy tending to the people he cared for, and though a part of him would become a little lonely on the walk home he still had a smile on his face. So when Bilbo saw the approaching figure over the distant hill, he couldn't help the welling happiness in his chest as he raised his arm into the air to wave a warm hello to the dwarf that completely filled his mind these last two weeks._

_“Thorin!” Bilbo called out happily, trotting down the hill towards the dwarf who all but towered over him. The last few years he'd spent exploring all the areas around Hobbiton he could he'd met his fair share of strange and interesting people. Among that list were a few humans, and of course he already knew Gandalf – and his fireworks. So Bilbo had seen people who truly towered over him. Thorin was certainly not as tall as man or wizard, but as they stood on even ground together Bilbo had to look upwards to the dwarf._

_“Hello, Master Baggins.” Thorin's smile was soft as he greeted Bilbo, and though Bilbo had told him many ties already to call him by his first name Thorin spoke something of dwarrow culture and politeness. Summing up that he would not call Bilbo by his given name as they had only just met, and he had to earn that right. The young hobbit didn't quite understand that, seeing as it should be alright if Bilbo gave him permission but he just nodded anyway. Though his mother was noted for being wild in her youth she took the time to teach him proper manors still, so he knew when not to push certain things._

_“What are you up to today?” The dwarven warrior asks after the blanket Bilbo always brings is set down nicely so they may sit and chat as was quickly becoming their custom._

_“This morning I helped set up for the party tomorrow night. Not everything is set up yet, but the arches look amazing!” Bilbo was actually excited about it, one of the older hobbits was having a celebration so nearly all of Hobbiton would be attending as usual and that meant that half the town would be there to set up and take down all the decorations. After all, hobbits were well known for their parties. Thorin smiled down at his enthusiasm and Bilbo went on to tell him about the festivities they would have, and of course all the food. It seemed like these conversations would go on for hours, Thorin would chuckle at Bilbo's jokes and ask questions. Or even sometimes he'd be reminded of something the dwarves do and would tell Bilbo a tale instead._

_Those were Bilbo's favorites. He loved listening to Thorin talk, the way his face would light up or how he couldn't talk without using his hands. Or how sometimes, it had only happened twice now, the dwarven warrior would slip into Khuzdul. Just a word or two, but Bilbo loved the way it made his voice drop an octave. He still wasn't sure about why a chill would run down his spine but he found he sort of liked it. Thorin, however, would catch himself and then stop and wouldn't say any more even after the first time it happened when Bilbo asked him if he would._

_“Would you like some cheese?” Bilbo asked as he began untying the cloth he brought his afternoon 'tea' in, for even though he was enraptured by Thorin's tales his stomach was beginning to rumble a little._

_“Hmm, maybe a little.” Thorin said as he looked out onto the grass, something Bilbo caught him doing often. Wondering what made the dwarven male stare into the distance so, hoping it was nothing that caused him to be sad. He'd been to scared to ask so far, in case it wasn't a negative memory or perhaps something too personal to tell a young hobbit. Still, he couldn't deny that he indulged himself by looking at the form of the male right next to him._

_The way Thorin leaned back on his arms, the muscled pulled tight as they supported him, though the tunic seemed rather thick on his torso the furred coat he would take off to sit with Bilbo no longer blocked his over all shape. Bilbo most liked to watch the way his raven colored waves would move and blow ever so slightly in the breeze, almost enchanting like. Which always lead him to staring at his profile, the strong nose and thick but groomed beard. In truth Bilbo hadn't seen many dwarrow in his life, not even these last few years, but those he had seen seemed to be drowning in full beards. Much like how Gandalf looked, Bilbo not having anyone else to compare to, but the way Thorin's beard was made him want to reach out his smaller hand and comb his fingers through it. Of course he had more control over himself to do so._

_Instead he lifted a broken off block of the cheese and held it out, hoping the slight heat he felt in his face was do the the beating sun and not a give away to his thoughts on Thorin's handsomeness. “Here.” He spoke softly holding up the small chunk between his thumb and finger._

_“Thanks,” Thorin said just as softly, seeming lost in thought as his eyes took a moment to turn as his head lead the way. His hands staying palm flat on the blanket he simply leaned over, opened his mouth and took the cheese with his tongue right out of Bilbo's hand. The warm wetness of his tongue just barely grazing against Bilbo's uncalloused fingers._

_For a moment the both of them froze, Bilbo almost statuesque with his empty hand still hanging in the air, although his face slowly heated until his cheeks were a bright red. His hazel eyes locked with the blue orbs that reminded him of the clear sky above them. Thorin didn't move either, though his face was calm – or so appeared to Bilbo – the cheese between his teeth as he stared right back at Bilbo. Bilbo could feel his heart thumping hard against his chest but he dare not look away in case he was over reacting to something that could have been very natural among the dwarves._

_Thorin closed his mouth, the cheese disappearing behind closed lips, and cleared his throat before ducking his head to turn and stare back into the distance. Not saying anything to give any sort of clue to Bilbo about what just happened. Which only made his heart beat even harder and he had to bite down on his own lip to keep himself for making any sort of frustrated sound, as his uncertainty most definitely made him frustrated._

  
_xxXxx_

Bilbo awoke to staring up at his ceiling, the left half of the room almost completely dark, a hindrance he'd gotten used to over the course of the last twelve years after the wounds to his face caused blindness to his left eye. Among other things, and though some mornings – much like this one – he'd wake up from a dream and have to blink a few times thinking his vision might clear. In his dreams he always had clear vision in both eyes, so waking up without was very disorienting. However, it is not this fact that had him staring dead eye into the curved wood of the ceiling. Having dreamt something so..wonderful, a memory he held so dear to his heart, but coming back to his bleak reality; had a tear rolling down his cheek. 

Rolling on to his side Bilbo tried not to whimper as his heart felt clenched. It ached horribly and he wished to fall back into the world of dreams. Where for a few hours he could go back to that summer he spent getting to know the dwarrow male he knew would hold his heart forever. He may have been a young hobbit than, but even since he's never met another soul who lit his heart aflame as Thorin had. Only making the reality of this morning even harder on him as he curled into himself biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from crying. Well, crying any more than he already was. 

  
~~~  
 

  
Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin, took an early evening tour of the surveying hills around Hobbiton guided by  the round hobbit from that morning – Hamfast, as Thorin quickly learned this time around. It would make a terrible impression on his intended allies if he couldn't remember a simple name, though he truly cared not. This was a simple trade off, no need to be friendly with these overly cheery little things. However Balin kept nudging him in the side and chiding him to be more accommodating, after all their future survival weighed heavily on the allies they made. War was in the air.

So he let the round hobbit guide the three of them through the main roads of Hobbiton, finding that nearly every road connected to the next and the weaved in and about each other like that of a spiders web. Except this webbing was decorated with green grass, flowers, and plants of every kind. The smell so earthy and green and spring like it was harsh on Thorin's nose. He was used to the smell of rock and stone, deep colds and fiery warmth, the open walls and mountain high ceilings, the sounds of hammers echoing in smithies. Not this. Not the cheery sound of children running, or the groaning call from mules pulling plows and other beastly sounds as animals littered the fenced yards of every house. Homes which seemed to just appear from thin air, the more Thorin looked for the small round doors in the hills the more he noticed each and every one, pack tightly together and seemingly built on every side, over and under as well. It was not at all like his home, nor what he considered to be any home he'd like to live in. However, he knew for the time being he was stuck here until all was sorted out. 

It seemed that was all there was, however, hobbit holes and small fields for planting. Though there was open area like that of which they had been greeted to, and then expanding valleys of tall grass beyond. So it was these closer open fields that Thorin finally decided with an announcement, this was where his company would station what they needed for a smithy. The round hobbit seemed delighted that the three agreed on the location and were confident it would suffice for now. 

“If I may ask.” Balin spoke up once the exact spot was marked by a few other hobbits who laid down wooden spike into the ground. “Why is the Thain not here?” 

The three of them had been thinking it, since after lunch when the odd hobbit had disappeared and not returned. When Hamfast had come to show them about, all on his own, Thorin was filled with an angry disappointment Bilbo had not shown again, though he hadn't any clue what he might have said to the odd smaller male.

“Ah, he is resting, I'm sure.” Hamfast spoke after a pause, and though his voice was hesitant he smiled up at Balin reassuringly. Thorin felt himself scoff a little, but the sound was drowned out by Dwalin's voice.

“Why is someone, so obviously not fit, your Thain?” His comment, made with crossed arms, was so plainly rude it took even Thorin by surprise. He, and the rest of the dwarrow were already used to Dwalin's bitterness when away from Ori, but the shocked surprise on the round hobbit's face out weighed both of theirs. 

“W-What?” His big round eyes blinked and Thorin wanted nothing more than to smack Dwalin upside his bald head, but he clenched his fists and waited for he too wanted to know the answer to this question. He understood well enough that hobbits were not warriors like themselves and they did not think of Thain as a king, but still. It seemed like Bilbo, as wounded and crippled as he was was not the best choice among the many other hobbits. 

“Well a cripple hardly seems the right--” Dwalin began but this time it was Balin who smacked him in the gut with his elbow. 

“My apologies!” Balin quickly tried to regain control of the situation, but the round hobbit's face was already scowling in uncertain understanding. “My younger brother does not know how to hold his tongue!”

“Yes, well..” Hamfast hesitated giving an unsure glare to Dwalin before looking back to Balin. “I suppose if we are to be allied you have a right to ask such things.” Though he seemed ready to give an answer the next minute was silent. Hamfast stared at Balin and then to Thorin and then back to Balin. Thorin himself almost groaned in frustrated groan at the confusing silence, when finally he spoke again. “I'm not sure I can tell all of the story but perhaps you remember the harsh winters that covered this whole area twelve years ago?” Hamfast began speaking, sticking his hands in the small vest pockets all the hobbits seemed fond of wearing. 

“Aye.” Balin answered as Dwalin kept his side turned as he brooded to himself. Thorin listened quietly but he too remembered hearing tales of it from his sister. Everything on the other side of the moria mountains was nearly covered in layers of snow, stacking so high he was sure these hobbits were buried in it. 

“Well, you can imagine it was particularly hard on us here in Hobbiton and those close by too.” Hamfast spoke, Thorin could hear a sort of dread in his reminiscence. “So when the orcs attacked there wasn't much we could do. All the fields were dead and we were all practically starving, and as you've seen we've little in the way to protect ourselves.” Though the round hobbit continued on Thorin perked with furrowed brow at the mentions of orcs. A personal hate of his own for the breed of monsters they were. Balin gave him a quick glance but they both listened a little closer.  

“We lost a lot that winter, and a lot of us only hid away to save ourselves.” His round face fell slightly and Thorin took it to mean that he was one that had hid. “Bilbo he..” His voice wavered but filled with admiration as his eyes looked up to Thorin specifically as if trying to tell him something, or hint to something. “Bilbo saved us, those who were hiding with me.” A small smile on his face, even though the memory seemed to be a hard one for him to speak of. “Had he not rushed after us we all would have burned to death.” And that was where he shut his mouth, puffing out his chest with a sigh he perked right back up. 

“So yes, Bilbo is Thain because we all chose him, and we are proud of the choice and what he has done to help us all.” His smile fully returned he beamed at the chance to praise the hobbit he followed. 

“An orc raid?” Thorin found himself asking, curiosity peeked whether he admitted it or not. He'd heard of the winter yes, but not of an orc raid. Least not one that could have been important enough to be told of over the mountains. Orc raids were no joke either, normally when one succeeded – which was likely to be the case here since hobbits were a small community with no protection – none were left alive. But twelve years later they were thriving enough to lend help to the dwarves? It seemed unlikely. 

“Yes.” Hamfast kept eye contact with him. “We think perhaps they were merely passing through as most everything for hundreds of miles was under piles of snow anyway. They stole what little we had left and burned the rest.” Though it was plain to see that he could openly talk there was still old fear and sadness in his face. Something Thorin could understand well enough. 

Years ago his own people were attacked in their homes much the same, Erebor was nearly lost when over run with orcs. It took decades to clear it and win their home back, it had been a hard victory and Thorin was more than glad to have witnessed it in his life time, to have played a part it taking it back. The lonely mountain had been won nearly fifty years ago now, and it took time to right things properly for the return home. They'd made the move from the blue mountains to Erebor some twenty years after it was won, a long wait to finally be home. 

“And now you are thriving.” Balin said, his voice lifted obviously trying to turn the conversation to something lighter. Both he and Dwalin knew the topic of orcs was always a dark one when the company of Thorin Oakenshield was involved. It seemed to work as the round hobbit smiled at Balin. 

“Yes, Bilbo has done a fine job getting us back to where we hobbits like to be.” 

  
~~~

 

Bilbo was busying himself with a private dinner, not having bothered left his smial knowing Hamfast would take up where he simply wasn't ready to at this point. Hamfast was more than just his gardener, he was his best friend. But it was a bond that could not be simply labeled like such. He was more like a brother, a brother to whom bonded closer to him than any blood bond could provide. As a young fauntling he'd never felt the need for a sibling, he was happy to be an only child with just him and his parents. Even during that time he'd met Hamfast and they were indeed friends even then but they had no reason to be any closer than neighbor fauntlings together. Which meant Bilbo still spent much of his time on his own, something he couldn't say he was upset about seeing as it was his adventures beyond the grass hills that lead  him to Thorin. 

Of course, now as the thought passed through his mind as he poured his tea his hand stopped. _Would the aching ever stop?_ He wondered to himself as he set down the tea pot so his shaky hands wouldn't drop the porcelain dishware. There were very few things of his family's that had been spared from the worst winter and that which had been was kept even more cherished than before. His mother and father  had lost their lives in the raid, crushed beneath burning homes, so he would protect what was left of them. Just as all those who had lost so much would protect what was left of those they loved as well. And now he felt like he'd lost the only thing that had kept him from falling into complete despair. 

Perhaps that was too great a burden to put on a dwarrow warrior he'd only known for a few weeks, perhaps it was all just something he'd fantasied and maybe half of it had been in his own head. But still, knowing now that the small hope he had, the few memories that made him feel safe beyond the memories of his parents, were not truly what they seemed. Or at least it was all one sided, Thorin had forgotten him. A phrase that kept repeating in his head, making his whole body feel heavy. He nearly sank to his knees and began balling again. 

Somehow he stopped himself, and a good thing too as there was a familiar knock at his door. Bilbo hesitated for a moment, debating on if he really wanted a nosy wizard asking questions at this time. With a raise in his voice that was more exhaustion than he would have liked to show, he shouted to the door. 

“Come back after dinner!” But much to his dismay the door opened and in ducked the familiar wizard in all his gray robes. 

“Bilbo Baggins!” He spoke as he shut the door behind him and stepped fully into the hobbit hole. “Is that any way to treat a good friend?” Standing not quite at full height he came closer to Bilbo as he sat at his dinning table. Bilbo just sighed up at the wizard and motioned for him to sit which Gandalf did with a little struggle as the ceiling was low and the chair was small. Had Bilbo been in a better mood he may have chuckled, but not even a smile broke across his face. 

“Come to share my dinner?” Bilbo asked, though really it was just a simple fried fish on a plate, with a little bit of lemon juice and black pepper seasoning. Though there weren't any decorations on his plate and he only had tea to accompany the dinner. It was small in comparison to the dinners his kin would be having, than what he should be eating, but as each day passed he found he had less and less of an appetite. This last day only proved that case to be even more true. 

“No, thank you. You go ahead. You did not eat luncheon lest I am mistaken.” Gandalf gave him that knowing raise of his eye brow and Bilbo sighed. This is why he disliked the wizard hanging around him at times like these, Gandalf had a way of seeing right through him and he hated that. 

The next little bit was spent in casual silence with Gandalf asking but a few questions as Bilbo picked at his food. It had been a while since the two had seen one another as Gandalf often went around wandering as was his nature. When it became obvious that Bilbo was merely stabbing the cold fish with his fork and no longer eating Gandalf turned the conversation serious. 

“What has gotten you so down Bilbo?” His wizard voice soft and serious, full of concern. 

“I-I don't know what you mean.” Bilbo tried to dodge the question. 

“I know that you do.” Gandalf battered back, not letting his small friend avoid the topic. “Something has got you in a state of woe, and I do not understand. Is is the company of dwarves?” Gandalf ventured to guess, and Bilbo could have cursed his wits for being too close to the truth, “I know they are a rowdy bunch but I assure you this alliance will be a good thing.” Gandalf tried to console him, and Bilbo only wished it was so simple. Sighing he felt like putting his head on the table but saw that his cold, half eaten fish was in the way. 

“No, it is not that.” Bilbo dared not look up to Gandalf. “The alliance is good, and I'm sure all will go smoothly. I have no doubts about that.” He truly did want to tell his friend the truth, to be honest like how he had been with Hamfast. But when he told Hamfast about his encounters with a dwarrow warrior on summer days it had been as a love struck hobbit many, many years ago. This was not the same situation as before and he didn't know if he could bring himself to say all the thoughts in his head out loud. That would mean just admitting he'd meant nothing to a person who had meant everything to him, and that was too much for his fragile heart to take at this time. “It..Its nothing.”Bilbo stood, hoping to escape the situation as he picked up his half eaten fish to throw it in the trash. “I am just over tired I think.” He gave Gandalf probably the poorest excuse he could think of but turned his back as he did so he couldn't see the wizards knowing gaze.

The more he spent in the presence of others the more he wished to simply be alone. 

**~Chapter End~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was a bit shorter because well, this is like a mid point between events, the next chapter is probably going to be very long. Maybe >.> So I must take my time and work on that when I can. Thank you all for the love so far, it truly helps my muse keep fighting! 
> 
> 'Till next time Lovelies!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you! Okay so I always end up posting these at night, and I am very tired so I apologize deeply for any mistakes or strangeness I may have spouted. Please forgive me I will fix things as soon as I can. Chapters will probably be slow But I will aim for a chapter every other week if I can. 
> 
> Please please please comment, or else I get far too discouraged and stop writing. I know that's pressure on you guys but it means the world to me. Thank you!!!


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